


Hubris

by Mhalachai



Category: Anita Blake: Vampire Hunter - Laurell K. Hamilton, Buffy the Vampire Slayer (TV)
Genre: Crossover, Gen, is that there's never a happy ending, the problem with slayers
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2004-09-13
Updated: 2004-09-13
Packaged: 2021-03-16 16:55:02
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,695
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28585314
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Mhalachai/pseuds/Mhalachai
Summary: When a Slayer died in Cleveland in the late 80s, her Watcher moved to St. Louis and joined the police force. Years later, he attends a lecture given by the oldest living Slayer, and has to deal with unwanted memories.
Comments: 4
Kudos: 54





	Hubris

**Author's Note:**

> Baby's first fanfic.

* * *

Zerbrowski hadn't wanted to go to the lecture at all.

Go on, Dolph said. An afternoon off with pay. The department would even spring for lunch. How often do you get to hear a talk by the West Coast's leading vampire executioner?

So that morning, Zerbrowski had woken up and taken his son's dog for a walk in the rain. He'd gotten home, showered, made himself a cup of coffee, dressed carefully and driven to the conference centre to hear the lecture on recent developments in preternatural forensic methods given by Buffy Summers, vampire executioner for the State of California and federal marshal.

As Zerbrowski settled down in his seat in the auditorium, he wished that he'd called in sick. He no more wanted to sit through an hour with the Slayer-Who-Lived than stick his hand in a blender. As he watched Ms. Summers' smiling face at the lectern, he thought of his own Slayer, and despaired.

* * *

He never meant to be a Watcher, even though it was what he was born to.

It was the old man's gig, after all. Although the last name had a distinctly Eastern European bent, the Zerbrowskis had been in England for a little over two hundred years. Zerbrowski's mother, an American, had met the old man while she was at Oxford in the late 1960s. They'd gotten married for some reason and while Zerbrowski had been born in America, he lived for the first couple years of his life in a dingy one-room walk-up in London.

His mother never told him why she left the old man. But just before Zerbrowski's third birthday, she'd packed up her son and moved them both back to Cleveland. She'd gotten married again, and Zerbrowski soon found himself with a bundle of half-siblings. His step-father had been a good guy, decent to his wife's first son. The step-father had stood up for Zerbrowski at his wedding and still came bearing presents to the kids' birthdays.

Zerbrowski hadn't heard from his father until he was seventeen. It had been the eighties, pastel clothes and big hair. Last year of high school, and everything was so wild.

Zerbrowski left school one day to see the old man waiting for him. He looked older, but since all Zerbrowski had seen of the man in fifteen years was an ancient photograph, that was to be expected.

They had gone for a burger. The old man explained he'd been in South America. Zerbrowski hadn't really cared.

What are you going to do after high school? the old man had asked. Zerbrowski shrugged and gave the usual response. College.

The old man offered him an alternative. How would you like to join an organization that helps to protect the world from the darkness?

At first, Zerbrowski was sure it was a rather poor-taste joke. Sure, he knew about vampires and werewolves and magical types. Who didn't? The old man explained that he was part of this organization, the Watchers, who helped the 'chosen one' rid the world of demons.

Almost against his will, Zerbrowski asked who the chosen one was. Bruce Lee?

When his old man told him that the chosen one was invariably a teenage girl, Zerbrowski realized that the man must be insane. He'd stood up a little too quickly and lied about having to get home. He'd remembered to toss a few bills on the table for the burger.

His father hadn't followed him out.

* * *

The next he heard of his father was a letter, sent just after summer started, informing Zerbrowski of the old man's death. The date for the funeral was included. Zerbrowski crumbled the letter and threw it into the trash bin.

His youngest sister, a nosy brat whose then-hero was Nancy Drew, pinched the letter and showed it to her mother. Zerbrowski learned of this the next day, when his mother and step-father came in to his room to talk to him.

As a graduation present, how about a trip to England? they offered. You could make it in time for the funeral, then use the rest of the time to look around.

Zerbrowski knew it was guilt that made his mother offer. He took them up on it with a shrug and a smile. He'd traveled on his own before. When he was fifteen, he'd bused to New York and back on his own. He'd been grounded for two months, but the trip had been worth it.

A few days later, he was in a small hall off a London church in a memorial service for the old man. He was more uncomfortable in his suit than in mourning for his dead father.

After the service, a man came up to Zerbrowski and introduced himself as Travers. He asked if the old man had given Zerbrowski 'their' offer. At the look on Zerbrowski's face, Travers invited him for a walk through London streets, where he explained the Watchers, what they did, and how the Zerbrowskis had been Watchers for thirteen generations, before they even came to England.

The offer was this: take college courses, supplemented by extra reading. Help the Watchers in their quest to aid the Slayers.

Zerbrowski left London without giving Travers an answer. He hitchhiked around England and Scotland for a bit, making it as far north as Glasgow before turning around. Travers was waiting for him when he showed up at Watcher headquarters. He'd think about it, was the only answer he could give.

Travers smiled like he had already won.

* * *

Back home, the last month of summer before he went to college was a blur. With seven kids in the house, his mother was always busy, so Zerbrowski planned to get his own stuff to the college dorms with the help of his buddy Todd and both their cars. Zerbrowski had a full course load of sociology and law classes. He didn't want to tell anyone, but he had his eye on the police force. He wanted to be a detective, like those guys on TV, and his guidance councillor told him that a college degree could only help.

The envelope from the London lawyer arrived in that last week at home. It contained a nice letter explaining the distribution of the old man's will, and a check with enough zeros on the end to pay for Zerbrowski's entire college degree.

Zerbrowski wasn't fooled. Strangely enough, neither was his mother. Zerbrowski wondered if she knew the old man was a Watcher. She'd only told him to do what he thought was right, then left the room in silence.

Even though no one brought it up, he knew things were tight. There were six other kids, most of whom would go to college. His mother hadn't worked in a while, and his step-father's job at the car plant was on shaky ground. Not having to pay for his college would be a great help to them.

Zerbrowski cashed the check, feeling the whole time as if he'd just signed a deal with the devil.

* * *

The first crate of books showed up at the dorms in October. Zerbrowski's roommate had looked up from his comics long enough to whistle at the thick books, then vanished back into Superman's exploits. There was a note, simply requesting that Zerbrowski read through the books and write to the following address if he had any questions or comments.

The books lay untouched for about a week. Then, in a fit of mad efficiency, Zerbrowski finished all his class work early one night. Bored, he opened one of the books. He came to himself hours later, reeling from the information he'd read. Demons. Vampires. Witches.

And a Slayer will arise to stop them all.

It was lunatic, insane. Zerbrowski read on. When the books were finished, he wrote the address and received more. Once, a note suggested that he take up Latin at college. He'd found a beginner's Latin course that fit into his schedule and signed up.

The books became heavier, more intense. Zerbrowski struggled with his classes at times, but he managed to get everything done. He may have been a clown, but he was a smart clown.

* * *

School ended, and Zerbrowski surprised everyone by getting an apartment and a job at a local all-ages disco. He tended the non-alcoholic bar and occasionally mopped up spilled drinks. In between, he goofed off with his friends, chatted up the pretty girls, and had a great time.

He still read at home. And he was starting not to like what he saw. Watchers, by definition, watched. Stories of these girls, Slayers, dying on their own because their Watchers would not help them in the field. It wasn't right.

He became an expert in demons, languages. Prophecies still eluded him, partly because his Catholic upbringing had taught him to believe in free will. No matter what, he didn't want to believe otherwise.

School started again, and Zerbrowski kept up his double duty. He dated some girls, but nothing serious. Sometimes he wondered if any of them could be Slayers, facing demons on their own, waiting to die.

* * *

He met Katie in the fall of his third year at college. She was so short that Zerbrowski almost walked over her in the hall. He'd apologized for five minutes, making jokes about his short-sightedness, and being blinded by her beauty. The tiny vision with large brown eyes had smiled up at him, laughing at his jokes, and he was lost.

They dated. He helped her with her history classes. She came over to his apartment occasionally and cooked him dinner. But it was all very slow. She was only in the second year of her teaching degree and wasn't sure if she wanted to get heavily involved with anyone. So Zerbrowski took it slow, acted like a gentleman, not wanting to scare her off. He'd wait forever if he had to, but deep inside he knew that this was the girl he was going to marry.

* * *

The first hint that something big was going down appeared in the paper in the middle of Zerbrowski's fourth year at college. A few kids had been found dead, mutilated, in an old warehouse. The papers left in just enough clues for Zerbrowski to pick up that it had been some sort of ritual sacrifice.

The Cleveland papers were full of it for days, blaming everything from Satanists to elevated mercury levels in tuna, until a gang shooting destroyed a daycare. Most people forgot about the warehouse kids. Nothing else happened, and life slowly trickled on.

Zerbrowski wasn't terribly surprised when a box of books showed up on his door, a week ahead of schedule. Some of the books were about demons, but most were diaries. Tales of Slayers and their fights with demons.

He'd buried the box under a pile of clothes for a week. When Zerbrowski heard a radio story about more murders in the warehouse district, he'd thrown his dinner into the sink and bolted for the crate.

One of the books had information that Zerbrowski thought might be relevant. He spent all night in the college Xerox room, photocopying the pages. He wore gloves to hide his fingerprints when he put the pages into an envelope, addressed it to the police and shoved it in the mail.

The police found the cult of demon worshipers. Travers showed up a week later. Watchers are not supposed to interfere, he said. Zerbrowski replied that he wasn't going to sit there and watch more kids die. He also suggested that if Travers thought he would, then the man could simply fuck off.

With a strange smile, Travers told him that his father would have sat by. Zerbrowski said that he was not his father. Travers left.

The books stopped coming.

* * *

The year ended. Zerbrowski graduated. He wanted Katie to move in with him, but she refused. She still wasn't sure. But she started spending the night. Zerbrowski had never been happier.

Then the bottom on his life fell out. He was taking a year off between college and applying to the police academy. One night he got home late, sopping wet. It was raining and he didn't own an umbrella. He was almost at the door of his apartment when he realized he wasn't alone in the hall.

Hiding around the corner at the end of the hall was a girl. She couldn't have been older than fifteen. She was soaked to the skin, and she had a large bruise developing on the right side of her face.

Zerbrowski had never seen her before. They stared at each other in the quiet hallway. He wondered, as he did with all teenage girls these days, if she was a Slayer. No, the poor girl had probably gotten into a fight with her father and didn't want to go home.

She asked him if he was Zerbrowski, stuttering on the syllables of his name. Startled, Zerbrowski said yes. The girl hesitantly said that someone named Smith had said, if anything happened, for her to find him.

Heart pounding, Zerbrowski asked who Smith was.

Smith was her Watcher, the girl replied. Then she started to cry.

* * *

It took nearly half an hour to get the girl to stop crying. Zerbrowski took her into his apartment, plied her with aspirin and hot coffee, and brought her a towel for her hair.

Gradually, the story came out. Smith had told her that if anything ever happened to him, she was to go to the only other Watcher in Cleveland, Zerbrowski. The girl had been out hunting a nest of vampires, but there had been a really old one who got away. When she arrived home the next morning, she'd found Smith's body lying gutted in the living room. Smith's head had been in the fridge.

The girl had spent the morning tracking the old one, finding and killing it just before noon. The rest of the day was spent in finding Zerbrowski.

What about your family? Zerbrowski asked, desperate. He couldn't take care of a teenager. Hell, it was a wonder he managed to feed himself some days.

The girl looked at him from behind her wet hair, confused. She'd been taken from her family when they found she was to be a Slayer, didn't he know that?

Zerbrowski ordered some Chinese food. While they waited, Zerbrowski asked the girl more about herself. She was fourteen and her name was Enid.

* * *

When Enid fell asleep on Zerbrowski's couch, he'd called Travers. The man hadn't known Smith was dead, and he was silent for a few minutes. Travers said that he expected that Zerbrowski would know what to do, then hung up.

Zerbrowski sat up in the kitchen all night long. All he ever wanted to do was marry Katie, become a police officer, maybe have some kids and a house in the suburbs. Now he had a fourteen-year-old Slayer on his hands who had just killed a whole pack of vampires. What the hell was he going to do?

By the time Enid work up the next day, Zerbrowski had a plan. There was an empty studio apartment down the hall that the landlord had a hard time renting out. Enid could stay there. Zerbrowski wasn't doing anything, he'd help her out until the Watchers sent someone who knew what the hell they were doing to take over as Enid's watcher.

Enid was very smart, Zerbrowski soon realized. She was also super-strong and as quick as a cat, and Zerbrowski would have suspected she was a werewolf. But she didn't change at the full moon, for which Zerbrowski was immensely glad. Not that he had anything against werewolves; it was just that being a Slayer was enough trouble for one little girl.

They'd come up with a cover story. Enid was Zerbrowski's cousin from out of town, come to visit for the summer. The girl had brown hair and brown eyes, it was possible. The landlord bought it, so did Zerbrowski's friends.

Unfortunately, Katie did not. She'd let herself into Zerbrowski's apartment one afternoon to make dinner, to find Enid holding up the end of the couch with one hand, bored, while Zerbrowski rooted around for a missing book.

Zerbrowski narrowly avoided being squished when Enid dropped the couch. She needed ten minutes of talking down; the guilt from her Watcher's death was still so close on her mind that she was extremely jittery.

After Enid went back down the hall, Zerbrowski was left alone with a furious Katie. He tried to explain, but Katie knew he was lying. She told him that when he could tell her the truth to call. The door slammed behind her.

The thing was, he couldn't explain. Katie would have insisted he turn Enid over to the authorities. How long would a kid like that last in foster care? She had the spirit of a fighter, which translated to acting first and thinking later. Zerbrowski had a hunch that if he called in family services, Enid would be in jail by the time she was twenty.

It wasn't academic anymore. It was about one scared kid whose life was on the line. Zerbrowski now realized the price he was paying for his mistake in saying yes to Travers, all those years ago.

* * *

Things went well, to start. Enid trained in her studio during the day, ran at the track at the community centre when it was nice out. Zerbrowski shoved information at her. She sopped it up like a sponge. She soon started spitting back what he told her, arguing with him, debating the information. The night she came back from patrol with a Vurdak spine, telling him how it could be used in a potion to reveal a witch, they'd ordered extra anchovies on the pizza to celebrate.

He talked to Katie. He still couldn't tell her anything, but Zerbrowski knew she missed him. The call left him hopeful.

When Enid was almost killed by a lone vampire, both Slayer and Watcher were deeply shaken. Enid had managed to kill the vampire, but had been hurt rather badly. She didn't patrol for over a week, usually sitting on the couch in Zerbrowski's apartment, watching the snow fall outside the window.

She had been told that Slayers never lived long, but this was her first major scare since she had been called. Zerbrowski watched her as she sat and thought about her own mortality. No Slayer had ever lived to grow up. Most died within the first year. Enid had been called in June. It was January. Her time was running out.

Then one night, she showered when she got up, ate all the leftovers in Zerbrowski's fridge and told him was going on patrol. After a brief hesitation, Zerbrowski told her that she wasn't going alone.

It was hard, at first. He was clumsy. A few times, he alerted the baddies to their presence. It was cold and hard and tiring, but he knew enough to spot signs Enid hadn't known she was missing. A few times, his hunches saved their lives. They killed a few demons, and ran some of the wiser vamps out of town. Luckily for them, most reasonable vampires avoided Cleveland. Unfortunately, that was because the city sat over a Hellmouth. A tiny gate to Hell, but it attracted some of the crazier preternatural creepies.

A quick rummage through the books indicated that there was another Hellmouth, in California, and most of the really crazy stuff ended up there. Lucky for Enid.

* * *

Zerbrowski's family was out of town on Easter, visiting his step-father's sister in New York. Zerbrowski and Enid were arguing about whether to order pizza or to venture outside for Chinese, when a knock came at the door. Enid picked up a stake and cross and stood near as Zerbrowski went to answer.

It was Katie. Zerbrowski's heart almost stopped when he saw her. She looked amazing, like always. She smiled up at him and told him that she had brought over Easter dinner.

Enid shrugged, tucked her cross back into her pocket and started to slide out the door, but Katie stopped her, saying she had brought enough for three. The grin on Enid's face could have lit up a baseball stadium.

Zerbrowski was too happy to see Katie to eat much. Enid took care of the extra food. She took a real shine to Katie. At the end of the evening, when Zerbrowski chased his Slayer back to her own apartment, they could hear her giggling all the way down the hall.

Katie sat on the couch next to Zerbrowski, resting her head on his shoulder. They didn't say anything, until Katie asked if whatever he was into was dangerous. Zerbrowski was silent for a few minutes, then said yes. Katie pulled away and hid her face. When Zerbrowski turned her around, he was surprised to see she had tears in her eyes. When he asked what was the matter, Katie explained she was so worried that she would lose him, and how could she bear that when she loved him so much?

Before Zerbrowski could think better of it, he gently took Katie's hands in his and asked her if she would marry him. She looked down and asked him if he could tell her what was going on. At his silence, she turned her hands in his. When he could tell her, then they could get married.

Zerbrowski said that it wasn't his secret to tell. Katie nodded, and said that she would wait for him to be ready to tell her.

Then she leaned into him, and they stopped talking.

* * *

It was April in Cleveland when they heard a new master vampire was in town. Enid wanted to go out at once, but Zerbrowski wouldn't hear of it. First, the research, then the slayage. Enid pouted for an hour, then got to work.

It wasn't enough. After four days of research and increasing rumours of dead bodies, they went hunting for the nest. They found it and were killing the minions when the master materialized out of thin air. Zerbrowski was closest and swung his axe at the master, but the vampire knocked it away like it was a straw. The vampire's other hand hit Zerbrowski clean in the chest, throwing him across the room.

The last thing he heard before he lost consciousness was Enid screaming, high in anger. Then nothing.

* * *

He woke up in a hospital room. His chest and back hurt. He squinted around, and someone put his glasses on his nose. It was Katie. She looked a mess, pale with puffy eyes. He had asked her what happened, why was he here. He thought he was missing something, but what?

He remembered Enid just as Katie opened her mouth to speak. He whispered his Slayer's name, and the look in Katie's eyes was answer enough.

He turned his head away and closed his eyes. He'd let her down. He'd let her die.

Katie sat and held his hand as he grieved.

* * *

The police detective came to see him. It had been a vampire attack, the detective said, like so many others in the area. Zerbrowski lied and explained that he and Enid were out for a walk when they'd heard a noise and gone to look. The master had been tearing up his own minions when he'd heard and attacked them.

The detective nodded. Zerbrowski wondered dully if he bought the story at all. A vampire executioner had been brought in, the detective explained, and the master had been killed.

It didn't matter. Enid was dead. He'd been stupid enough to believe that it was the job of a fourteen-year-old girl to kill the bad guys, when he should have turned her over to family services. Maybe then she'd be alive.

* * *

The funeral was on a sunny day. Zerbrowski was there, as was Katie. The police detective, Det. Rand, also showed up, watching.

Zerbrowski waited until his dead Slayer was buried under six feet of dirt, then he went home, locked the door, and crawled into a bottle of whisky.

* * *

When he sobered up a week later, he washed up, shaved, and took a taxi to the university. He was waiting for Katie when she finished her seminar. She took one look at him and bundled him off to her place. She gave him a hot meal and some coffee and waited for him to speak.

When he could talk again, he told her everything. His father, Travers' offer, Enid showing up at his place. How they had hunted the vampires and other baddies together. How Enid had died.

He finished, and as Katie held him, he started to cry.

* * *

Zerbrowski called London and told the bastards to come get their books, the key was with the landlord. Katie had been with him when he cleared out Enid's apartment. They packed up her clothes, her books, her diary. The clothes they gave to a shelter. Zerbrowski kept the diary and the books. He hadn't yet brought himself to read the diary.

They left Cleveland soon after that. Katie had finished her degree, and Zerbrowski was accepted into the policy academy in St. Louis. They married in the fall, in a little outdoor wedding. Zerbrowski had never seen anyone as beautiful as Katie when she promised to be his wife. He almost forgot his lines, and fumbled the ring.

He became a cop, and Katie started teaching. She got pregnant, and he got promoted. Then, a year after he made detective, he lipped off to the wrong cop and found himself unceremoniously dumped onto the new Spook Squad. Now he was supposed to help the vampires, where before he killed them?

He wanted to hate them all, for what happened to Enid. But do you hate a werewolf because it hunts? How do you hate the vampires who didn't kill, didn't maim. He couldn't do it, and wondered if Enid would feel betrayed. They could still kill the vampires who hurt others. Was it enough? What would Enid have thought of Addison v. Clark? What would Enid have become?

He hadn't heard anything from the Watchers in a decade when one day someone left a message on his answering machine. The name was Rupert Giles, saying that the Watcher's Council had been destroyed, and the Hellmouth at Sunnydale had been closed. They were looking for Watchers who hadn't died to start a new Watcher's Council.

Zerbrowski listened to the message twice, then erased it and went outside to watch his daughter play on the grass.

* * *

The lecture ended and people around him milled chaotically. Some went down to talk to Ms. Summers, others discussed her topic and her ideas. Zerbrowski sat, still lost in his memories.

"You got to wonder how someone so young became a federal marshal," Anita said into his ear. Zerbrowski jumped. He didn't know Anita would be here. His favourite dark-haired vampire executioner leaned over the back of the chair next to him, grinning lazily.

"But she's not nearly as pretty as you," Zerbrowski said, but his heart wasn't in it. Anita noticed.

"What's up with you? Didn't like the talk?"

Zerbrowski looked down at the live Slayer, almost as old as Anita. Ten years older than Enid had ever been. "Talk was fine."

The look Anita was giving him was frightening in its intensity. He wondered what she would do if he told her he had once led a child to face the vampires, and that little girl had died.

Zerbrowski attempted to smile. "I'm outta here." He stood up. "You and Micah still on for Saturday dinner?"

"Yes," Anita said. "Are you going to be okay?"

Zerbrowski didn't answer as he turned to walk away. Behind him he could hear the bubbling laughter as Buffy Summers talked and joked with her newest fans.

* * *

He went to a pub nearby, where he ordered a whisky straight. He stared at the drink for almost an hour before he threw some money on the bar and went home.

_fin_

**Author's Note:**

> I'm moving some of my older work over to AO3. I hadn't read this story in close to a decade. I don't remember much about 2004, but I remember walking to work at 5am over the Cambie Street Bridge in Vancouver because I was too poor to afford bus fare and wishing that I had some semblance of control over my life, which turned into writing this story. 
> 
> It's funny, sometimes, thinking back to who we were. 
> 
> Find me on [Tumblr](https://mhalachai.tumblr.com/).


End file.
